


Hunt of a Lifetime

by ChibiTabatha



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Decisions, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, First Kiss, M/M, Monsters, Pining, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22784125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiTabatha/pseuds/ChibiTabatha
Summary: Jaskier finally gets to go on that striga hunt, like he wanted.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	Hunt of a Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

> For the second day of Geraskier Week: Monster Hunt.
> 
> I asked my friends to pick a monster, they picked the striga. I had to do a little bit of research since I have only played a bit of The Wild Hunt.

"Geralt!" Jaskier called out to his friend.  
  
Of course the tall dark brooding man hardly even flicked his golden gaze in his direction. Oh how the bard longed to have those eyes focused on him with something other than open disdain. He wondered how they might warm in low candlelight, how his lips might part to whisper his name.  
  
He ran right into Geralt's back, nose slamming into one of the scabbards. Hissing at the burning pain that now radiated across his face. "Great Goddess! Geralt watch where you are going!"  
  
"Hmm," the other man grunted.  
  
Peeling himself away from the alluring scent of leather mixed with the pungent smell of unwashed horse was easy enough, pulling away from the muscled torso of his friend despite the revolting scent was much harder. He held out the crumpled piece of parchment, the ink faded and spotty. "I found this notice, I thought it might interest you."  
  
Watching the witcher take the notice, he tilted his head down to watch the man's eyes flick over the words. "Hmm."  
  
"As I thought. Let's resupply here, then ride out to the hamlet mentioned."  
  
Jaskier turned to head towards the market when a hand gripped around his bicep. "No."  
  
"No? What ever could you mean my stoic friend? Of course we need to resupply. Especially after that back to back nest of drowners and alghouls." The bard looked up at his muse, watched the way the morning sun kissed his lighter pallor, shining over white-silver strands that stood out against the man's darker wardrobe.  
  
"I will resupply. Roach and I will go." The witcher's gaze seemed to root the smaller man in place. "You will stay here."  
  
The bard grasped the front of his doublet as if the words had wounded him, gasping slightly. "I will do no such thing Geralt! This is a striga! I might be the first bard in history to see the curse undone for myself!"  
  
A lie, he knew. King Foltest surely had bards in his court, mayhaps none of them traveling minstrels, but they had surely witnessed the girl freed from her curse.  
  
"Because it is a striga, you must stay here."  
  
"I shall not take no as answer Geralt. We shall away at once. No chance of you leaving in the middle of the night. I'll have none of that, thank you very much."  
  
Geralt didn't roll his eyes, but the bard could feel it in the quiet growl that rumbled from deep in his chest. The smaller man just gently patted the strong jaw of his witcher friend before wandering off to the market. The soft sound of boot on cobble close enough to him to signal his friend's looming presence.

* * *

The small hamlet was only a two days ride from the town they had previously left. However, Jaskier did not have a horse. Could not deign himself to part with his coin. The only mount in his life that he could ever hope to need was Roach. Beautiful Roach.  
  
His fingers danced over his lute.  
  
" _Oh fairest Roach,_  
 _Bequeath to me your heart._  
 _The brown of your coat,_  
 _The finest work of art_."  
  
The mare nudged his shoulder, lipping at his doublet.  
  
"You're correct, it needs far more work before it reaches the masses."  
  
The witcher hadn't said anything during their exchange, although he did silently urge Roach to move ahead of the bard.  
  
Having Geralt ahead of him on the road made ogling him much easier. Watching the gentle shift of his weight in the saddle, muscles contracting and releasing to keep him upright. What it might be like to be the leathers stretched over that muscular frame. How it would feel to have them flex under his calloused fingertips...  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
The bard jolted slightly, "Pardon?"  
  
"Your heart-rate increased. But I don't hear anything that could have caused it."  
  
Jaskier blanched slightly, he could hear his heart fluttering against his chest? Yearning to reach out to the other. What else could those keen senses pick up?  
  
The solid weight of Geralt hit the dirt path, boots whispering over the ground before stopping in front of the bard. A gloved hand grasped his chin, pulling his gaze from a broad chest to gold eyes. The bard watched his nostrils flare, pupils narrow before dilating.  
  
Dread dripped down Jaskier's spine, this was it, the moment Geralt would send him off forever. All for doing naught but pine after him.  
  
"We'll continue until dusk." The witcher removed his hand from the bard.  
  
"But the striga," his voice got quiet.  
  
"Not a full moon. We'll not risk travel at night."

* * *

Jaskier gently touched the coffin, fingers itching to peer under the lid. His voice soft, "So when I said I wanted to be involved in the hunt, I didn't realize this is what you had in mind."  
  
"It's the best way to keep you safe."  
  
"Crawling into the monster's hidey-hole after it crawls out just seems to be the epitome of safety Geralt."  
  
The witcher hummed lowly, riffling through his bag.  
  
"Geralt." The gentle clinking of vials and potions. "The plan again?"  
  
The growl that escaped the witcher's chest belied the scowl he couldn't see. "I am going to lure the striga away. You are to get into the coffin. I will cast Quen. You will be safe through the night. You are not to leave the coffin until I remove you myself."  
  
"And you'll just what? Run around fighting the beast all night?"  
  
"Contract is to cure the girl."  
  
"I don't like this Geralt."  
  
"Too bad."

* * *

Jaskier felt terribly claustrophobic, darkness encroaching his senses. The wood of the coffin was musty and rotten in places, the taste sticking to the back of his throat and nose. Of course his lovely new friend was also contributing to the cloying air around him. The bones beside him clicked together in a way that made his skin crawl.  
  
The sound of something skidding near the coffin made him freeze up. Then the growl of Geralt rolled through, just before the sound of metal singing out against what the bard could only assume were claws. Oh, how he hoped that Geralt might tell him more about the fight than his bodily wounds might.  
  
The sounds of the fight rang out through the night. Terrifying howls, and growls. Concerning moans, and groans. The sharp metallic tang of blood overpowered the smell of rotting wood. Jaskier's fingernails scraped at the soft wood, bits splintering off and burying themselves in the soft flesh under his nails.  
  
The pinching feeling of his skin was hardly a distraction to the pain of his lungs screaming for air whilst he held his breath.  
  
Something solid hit the casket, and he felt it screaming across the stone floor. The bard could feel his heart hammering in his throat, what if the striga had killed Geralt? What if that was what had hit the casket, the witcher's dead body?  
  
Claws skittered along the aged wood and a horrible scream was let out from on top of the casket. Suddenly there was another loud bang, followed by heaving breaths.  
  
"Jaskier?" The witcher's voice rasped lowly.  
  
"Geralt?" He pressed his palms against the sagging wood.  
  
The wood shifted and the coffin lid screamed. The low light of the crypt slowly filled the small space, and Jaskier pushed at the wood as well, trying to help the other man.  
  
"Are you okay?" A sticky glove gently curved over his cheek, leaving a cool, damp trail behind.  
  
The bard grasped at the other's wrist, trying to pull the other man towards him. Looking up into pitch black eyes, he looked for any signs of injuries. "Geralt. Geralt what happened?"  
  
"Don't worry. Come." The other man pulled him from the coffin, hauling him bodily across the crypt.  
  
Jaskier tried to keep his feet under him while looking around. Maybe he had been in that cramped space maybe a handful of hours, nowhere near enough time for the sun to rise. His head turned and he saw the dark creature lying just to the side of the coffin, unmoving, bleeding from several places.  
  
"I thought you were supposed to lift the curse?"  
  
"It wasn't safe. I had to keep you safe."  
  
Jaskier stuck his heels down, trying to halt the forward motion of his friend. "Geralt! Geralt, wait!" His free hand skittering over blood slick leathers.  
  
The witcher slowed before the stairs leading upstairs. "What?"  
  
"Had to keep me safe? Geralt, I was the one that asked to be brought on the hunt. Refused to take no for an answer. I'd rather risk the occupational hazards than have you miss out on a proper payment for your contract."  
  
He looked into those obsidian pools, black veins worming away from them. "You're not scared of me." A statement.  
  
"Of course not. You kill monsters not men. You said as much yourself."  
  
A deep growl rolled from Geralt's chest. "Even if I am more monster than man?"  
  
Jaskier rolled his eyes. "The scary schtick won't work this time dear friend. Why'd you kill her?" He motioned to the corpse behind them.  
  
Geralt closed his eyes, take a few breaths. "She was after you. I wanted to keep you safe. As soon as you moved towards the coffin, she was after you."  
  
The bard reached up to gently brush fingers across Geralt's cheek, smearing dark red across his white skin. The witcher potion was just starting to fade, sickly white warming to pale flesh. Leather wrapped finger gently grasped at his hand leaving morbid streaks across his flesh. "Geralt…"  
  
"No. I couldn't let anything happen to you. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I watched her take your life in front of my eyes."  
  
Jaskier leaned in towards Geralt. "I need you to stop or I might get the idea that you don't dislike my singing, or my presence."  
  
"I enjoy your presence a lot. You are a songbird though, not mine to cage. Even if I ache to do so."  
  
The bard leaned up to press a soft kiss to the corner of Geralt's mouth. "Yet you haven't experienced all of my songs, or cries. I doubt a bird like myself would ever be able to tame the great White Wolf."  
  
Geralt's free hand wrapped around the small of his back. "Lark, you have no idea the things I would like to do to you. However, I doubt that this is the time or place. So please. Let's go, sleep until dawn. Figure out the contract, then head to an inn. Where I might hear one of these new songs."  
  
Jaskier couldn't help the blush rising over his cheeks. "That sounds like a grad idea my good witcher."  
  
Again Geralt's nostrils flared, "You smell good when you're pleased, slightly aroused."  
  
The bard's jaw dropped, "You could smell it?"  
  
Geralt just gave him a soft half smile before pulling the blustering songbird away.

**Author's Note:**

> Well I hope you liked this, let me know what you thought in the comments!
> 
> Come say hello over on [tumblr](https://chibitabathasloves.tumblr.com/).


End file.
